


Upheaval

by ashion



Series: Upheaval - No Regrets [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Familial Relationship, Ironhide x Optimus Prime, Parent Ironhide, aftermath of ROTF, little bit of fluff between big strong mechs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashion/pseuds/ashion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2 days after the events in Egypt aboard the aircraft carrier, Ironhide and Optimus have a few moments to themselves... when Ratchet isn't butting in that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upheaval

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story originally written way back in 2009 that sparked a current little on going series of one shots plus a multi-chapter on going story I'm currently working on updating and adding to along with several other fics.
> 
> This whole thing was spawned by this original prompt by rashadni at the LJ TF Bunny Farm: The reason Optimus lets Ironhide off with so much is because Ironhide is secretly his dad.  
> I twisted it a bit so it was Ironhide who raised Optimus to kinda stick with where the young seem to come from in RoTF.  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
> "Blah"– Normal talk  
> :: Blah :: - Comm link

Ironhide can’t help it, can’t hold back anymore.

It is an agreement long in place that this degree of closeness and display of affection was to be kept discrete and most importantly, private. Right now, he couldn’t give a flying slag who saw them.

He sits with his broad back to the bulk head of the mostly empty hold of the large warship, sturdy legs stretched out in front of him. Thick blunt fingers trace over the damaged face, helm and shoulders of the mech lying next to him, helm resting in his lap. 

The exploring digits slowly work their way down to loosely rest upon still healing gouges and dents in the wide chest. Idly Ironhide takes in all the damage wrought upon the other and finds himself, not for the first time, thanking the boy, the Prime’s and whatever other divine force saw fit to allow him this privilege again. This welcome feeling of warm metal under his fingers, slight buzz of the personally familiar energy field against his and most importantly the steady thrumming pulse of that strong spark nestled deep within the layers of amour. 

A memory flits unbidden through his processor of this same mech lying motionless, chest armor torn and blackened, plating rapidly growing cold under his touch. He barely suppresses the icy shiver that courses through his neural net at the memory.

The other stirs. Optic shutters flick open, alighting with their familiar expressive blue glow. He can’t help but allow a small smile to creep onto his craggy face plates when those optics swivel sideways to focus on him.

“Welcome back to the world of the online, Prime.”

Optimus Prime simply stares up at Ironhide for a moment before pushing himself up onto his elbow with a small grunt. With a little assistance from Ironhide he rights himself sitting back against the ships bulk head. His optics flicker shut for a moment as his head drops back, Ironhide continually watching with sharp optics. 

With a long hard shunt of air through his vents he finally asks.

“How long was I-“

“4.36 earth hours. No where near long enough.”

Optimus’ optics snap open, head quickly turning to spot Ratchet working only a few meters away. With his back still to the Prime and Ironhide, the chanteuse medic finishes the last solders in Jolt’s arm.

:: Before you ask the boy, Sam, is with his parents and the girl, Mikaela, in the mess hall 6 levels above us. They are fine and healing as well as expected. The boy hasn’t reported any more signs of the symbols thus far. Lennox, Epps and their team are also in the mess hall, all those injured are being seen to by the human medics. ::

Noticing Jolt staring at them for the third time since being ordered in for repairs Ironhide’s optics narrow. A deep throaty growl issues from the old black mech, energy field flaring in clear annoyance causing the younger to quickly shy away. Optimus gives the other a sidelong glare but nothing is said.

:: It’s good to have you back with us Prime. We couldn’t function without you. ::

:: Thank you, Jolt. It is good to be back. ::

“You’re done. Get your aft up to the flight deck for a few hours of solar recharge.”

As soon as the dark blue mech is out of sight Ratchet rounds on Optimus and Ironhide, optics brightening with a determined glint. 

The distinct prickle of multiple scans sweeping his systems wrings a slightly startled jolt from Optimus. His still sluggish systems not prepared for the sudden intrusion. Ironhide shoots a heated glare at the medic for upsetting their Prime, receiving an equally heated glare in response. 

Optimus can’t help the sense of strange relief in this familiar display after almost a day of the others, as humans say, tip toeing around him. It was clear mechs such as Bumblebee and the twins wanted to spend as much time as possible with their leader to reassure themselves he was alright and was staying with them. It had taken several threats from Ratchet and a reminder he was needed to help with securing the area and protecting the humans to prize the young scout away from the Prime. Even Sam had been reluctant to stray far from the red and blue mech. Numerous times he’d spotted the boys nervous gaze flicking over him. 

As soon as Sam a brief moment of just him and the Prime he’d near broken down giving his apologies for not listening, blaming himself entirely for the large mech’s death. Optimus was quick in reassuring the young man he was fine and that he felt no grievance towards him. He understood his want for a normal life and after helping to calm him encouraged the young man to go to his family. He was loath to deprive the boy of time with his parents after such a traumatic experience. 

After the initial happy commotion over their Prime’s return and the success of the battle against the Fallen, Ratchet had ordered that the Prime be left in peace to rest. Ironhide being the only exception he would allow, with Bumblebee a close second. The young bot took any inch given a mile, but respected his elders and kept to watching over his charge most of the time. 

Watching the two with their familiar battle of wills the Prime’s mind wanders, optics briefly settling despondently on the pile of metal plates, parts and cables covered with tarps. Parts that were once a mech who sacrificed his very life for someone he didn’t even know. Although immensely thankful, Optimus was also pained by the fact he would never have the chance to truly know the ancient mech or ask him of what the first Primes were really like.

His brief merge with Jetfire and subsequent power surge had gotten him through the battle, but his body was quick to reject the foreign parts once the immediate danger had passed. All the power forced into him was consumed by his self repair systems to stabilize his spark chamber and surrounding armor, leaving him feeling almost as drained and raw as the moment he awoke under the blistering sun. 

The battle itself was still a muddled, semi-coherent mix of sounds, images, emotions and blunt sensations rattling through his processor. The one thing the ancient mech had said to him, that he would have power he had never known before still sat at the forefront of his mind. Those words making him acutely aware that, although the power Jetfire had given him in his sacrifice was gone, it had triggered something. Even now he could feel it quietly lurking somewhere in his systems just out of his reach. Coming back to himself he could feel his two companions’ energy fields rolling and flaring as they continued their silent war.

Long, blunt fingers rub between his optics and nasal plating, the persistent processor ache since his resurrection, starting to worsen.

“If you two younglings are quite done…”

Ratchet’s glare quickly flicks to Optimus, scans again flicking through his systems without prior request for permission. Normally the behavior would be considered impolite and could be taken in offence, but all those who worked with Ratchet knew this was just how the mech operated. Always blunt and to the point. 

Seemingly satisfied Ratchet sits back, eyeing the two mech’s with critical optics. Settling on Optimus the mech stabs a finger at him, despite Ironhide’s renewed grumblings.

“You need to recharge for at least another 10 hours, no interruptions. Your systems are still healing, your spark has settled more, but those welds need more time to set properly and-”

“It’s fine Ratchet. I got him. I’ll make sure he recharges.”

With a loud huff Ratchet turns to glower at the dark mech with no small amount of malice for the interruption.

:: Ya know better than anyone I’m good for it Ratch. I’ll monitor him and notify ya of any changes, besides I ain’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon myself. ::

An overly dramatic shunt of air issues from the bright green mech’s vents - their equivalent of a sigh. Passing one last scan over the two he stalks off to the large lifts to the top flight deck intent on checking the others and keeping them inline. 

Finally ‘alone’, human surveillance cameras not withstanding, Ironhide turns his attention back to Optimus, to find the mech giving him a mildly irritated glare.

“Don’t ya be giving me that look younglin’. All the time ya been down, the Hatchet has been throwin' his weight around somethin' shockin'. He thinks he's runnin' things.”

"Technically with both of us in less than our best condition and off the active duty list he does hold the next highest rank."

"Ha! That surly old rust bucket is pushin' it if ya ask me."

Reaching out Ironhide easily slides his arm behind the broad expanse of the larger mech’s shoulders, mindful of the lingering damage. He gently tugs the unresisting mech back down to the position he had occupied earlier stretched out on his side to take pressure of his back and chest, long powerful legs slightly curled. Some shifting ensues before Optimus finally settles. Ironhide resuming his idle petting, hand lazily running over the other’s helm, barely touching the deep glyph markings on a cheek flange.

“Hmm...It has been a very, very long time since I was a youngling ‘Hide.”

Optimus grumbles lightly, though there was no heat in the tone only telling exhaustion. Shunting a sigh of heated air through his vents, Ironhide stares away at nothing as his mind slowly winds down. Images bounce through his CPU unbidden, reminding him of quieter, more peaceful times when moments like this weren’t so fleeting.

“Ya always gonna be my younglin’, Prime. I found ya, raised ya and all...“

Ironhide can’t help but softly run the tip of a finger over the marked carving in the mech’s audial.

“A Prime… a true Prime… Always knew there was somethin’ about ya. And I-we nearly lost ya for good. Don’t think I’ve ever been so fraggin’ scared my entire life. Seen ya badly damaged before, but this… Without you we almost gave up. Ratchet wanted to leave… Leave Earth all together. I’m kinda embarrassed to admit I wanted to agree. With out a Prime the others -”

Optimus’ energy field abruptly shifts changing from the calm to irritated, immediately catching Ironhide’s attention. Glancing down he sees the other staring up at him those expressive glowing optics narrowed, causing him to pause in his ministrations. 

After so many years he could see the irritation and pleading in those optics before the words were spoken.

“’Hide, please. I’ve already been informed of everything. For now can we please just forget about that? … I let you get away with a fair amount, so can I just please be a little selfish now and have these few days just you and me as it once was? No war, no title…”

He understands what Optimus is asking. He’s devoted so much of his life to his troops and adding dealing with the humans now he has no time to himself. So driven to watch over his people and protect others he sometimes became to wound up and stubborn to step back and let someone else run things for a while. 

Even now he could see Optimus was fighting his need to recharge, something he did more often than Ironhide and several others were comfortable with. Actually allowing others to take over and asking for a moment as an ordinary mech was telling. With a snorting laugh Ironhide pulled the other a little closer, settling himself in for a few quiet hours.

“Ha, it ain’t selfish and ya don’t need to ask Optimus ya know that. Ya have always been too concerned about others even when ya were a younglin’. Come on now. Recharge or the Hatchet will have both our afts.”

Finally giving in, the dark warrior watches the other quickly power down and slip back into much needed recharge. Optics lingering over the long, powerful frame Ironhide feels his spark pulse with unbridled happiness. 

His kind never had ‘parents’, but they did have those assigned with the greatest of responsibilities. The guardianship and raising of the next generation. With their kind many perished for a wide range of reasons before they even made it to the emergence and hatching stage, so those that survived were considered the most precious treasures within their society.

He is insanely proud of the mech he was allowed to raise. Having lost them then had them returned to him by the graces of the lost Primes made him appreciate even more that he had help shape the mech beside him into the great warrior and mech his is now. He wants to tell the world of what he shares with the Prime and his pride for what his mech has become, but for safety sake he has never spoke of it. 

For many vorns after Optimus’ became head of the Cybertronian science and exploration division, working under Megatron, their contact had been limited. Working on opposite sides of the planet and having vastly different professions didn’t help matters, but this was normal. Many a guardian completely cut ties with their charge once they reached full maturity, but Ironhide found he could never fully break the connection they shared.

Once the war began in earnest, he heard about Megatron’s attempt to capture Optimus. The news had immediately sent a rush of suspicion and panic through his spark. What could Megatron possibly want with his young mech? What could he have possibly done to inspire such vehement, almost obsessive behavior within the High Lord Protector to see him captured at all costs? He knew of Optimus’ stubbornness and reputation for being one of the extreme few mechs who wouldn’t be cowed into submission by Megatron’s harassment and heavy handed military tactics, but none of it seemed to be enough to warrant going after him with such single minded determination.

When Starscream returned from his find and capture mission struggling to stand let alone walk straight with the extensive, but non-life threatening damage to his frame Ironhide had to repress snorts of laughter. Word had already spread of the military flyer and his mechs being beaten down by a lowly, supposedly un-armed science mech. He’d taught his charge well. The sight had brought Ironhide great amusement and pride, but also made him acutely aware of the danger Optimus was in and how far Megatron was over stepping his bounds as military leader. 

Soon after full blow civil war was upon them as Megatron turned on the Council and ruling Prime, Sentinel. Slipping away from the main military grounds Ironhide allowed himself to be captured and brought to the hidden Autobot command bunker and brought to meet their Commander, Optimus Prime. It took him some self restraint not to just run over and hug the mech to show his immense pride in seeing his quiet youngling now a full grown mech heading the resistance against Megatron’s insane war. He’d always known the young mech had a type of infectious will to keep moving forward no matter what and quiet warmth and charisma that always drew others to him. 

Through private agreement, Ironhide would become the weapons specialist and train the mechs gathering under Optimus Prime’s command. To satisfy Ironhide’s need to be near him, to protect him from the traitors and assassins he knew would be lurking around every corner, Optimus authorized him to set himself up as his official body guard. 

The agreement allowed Ironhide to stay close to not only protect their Prime, but also act as his confidant and sounding board. Part of the agreement also included that outside of a show of friendship, any affection or more than comradely level closeness was to be strictly kept private for both their safety. 

No one needed to know the military mech, once one of Megatron’s best fighters had raised the mech they now idolized as their Prime.

Due to this he developed other ways to show his pride as a guardian, doing all he could to protect his charge by doing such things as training new recruits and help develop weapons, but most poignant of these was his unwavering loyalty. In return Optimus quietly let him get away with more than most mechs within the ranks, including indulging his little weapons and cannon fetish to a reasonable level. 

To all those around them, Autobots and the humans of NEST alike they are superior and subordinate. Commander and weapons specialist and very close long term friends. 

More recent, painful memories creep to the surface again. Seeing the body of the mech he had raised from a fragile hatching, unceremoniously dropped into the tarmac like useless scrap. That had taken every last shred of will power he had to keep his resolve. 

He’d wanted to snap, scream and rage, crush that pathetic little carbon based insect into the ground for the disgusting display of disrespect. He wanted to fire his canons until they over heated and burned. He wanted to find Megatron, the mech his youngling had once been so close to they called each other brother, and tear him apart piece by vital piece. Though he knew Optimus’ wouldn’t have wanted that then or even now. 

Shaking his head, he forces himself to stop dwelling on those horrid memories. Optimus is right here with him intact and alive. Megatron had successfully been driven off with damage that undoubtedly would take some time to heal. 

Ironhide knew full well it would not be tomorrow but it would happen again soon. The attacks were going to start again. That mech wouldn’t give up that easily. His sanity had long since shattered taking all reason and sentiment with it. He couldn’t see how useless and futile the war was, couldn’t stop anymore. They were potentially the last of their species and their home was now undoubtedly a dead husk. Even with that spark crushing knowledge he knew Megatron was too far gone to care anymore.

:: Stop it ‘Hide. I know what you are thinking about, I can feel it. We can deal with all that once we are back at NEST headquarters. ::

Startled Ironhide looks down to see dull blue optics watching him. With slight embarrassment he realizes he’s been projecting through his energy fields more strongly than he anticipated. An amused snort leaves the dark mech as he gently taps a large finger against the crest of the blue helm. 

:: You are supposed to be recharging, not checkin’ my fields. Don’t make me call the Hatchet down here. ::

The other stares at him a few seconds longer, field radiating mild irritation before morphing into exasperated resignation. Those sharp optics power back down again protective shutters dropping. With a small shift and creaking of aged parts Ironhide settles back, hand resting over Optimus’ strongly thrumming spark. 

Sensors train on the red and blue mech, subroutines cataloging and prioritizing the information received as his mind wanders again. This time, the wandering is more directed with a purpose. Memory files are triggered and opened in succession of much better quieter times when war and factions were unheard of. 

Scarred plates twitch into a small smile as images of a certain mech roll to the forefront, so young patches of nutrient gel are still drying on his dull blue grey plating. Long thin legs support the delicate, shaking frame barely a foot taller than the average human. Golden optics, that would one day change to that familiar hardened blue, staring up at him with wide curiosity and innocence. 

Settling into those memories and savoring the warmth and feel of the others spark and energy field mingling seamlessly with his own the old warrior allows himself to drop into a light recharge, relaxed and content for the first time in many, many vorns.


End file.
